I am creating the most beautiful, self-revolutionizing online workshop. (And who doesn’t want a revolution?)

It’s called DEEPER. In twelve glorious weeks together we will explore personal story and mythology through art journaling. We will weave together a profound depth of creative expression with a quest for our own solitary truth.

This isn’t just another artmaking workshop. In fact, it’s almost like the art is the side-effect.

DEEPER is more like entering a space of devotion. Exploration. A divine intertwining with who you ARE. A place you can go to retreat and renew, and emerge with pizazz, power, and sooooo many a-ha’s. When you live THAT deeply in your own self, you literally cannot NOT be prolifically creative. You can FEEL that truth, right?

I’m your guide into those places inside yourself that will make you weak in the knees. They are in there, waiting for you.

If you know me at all, you know I am not very interested in the shallow end of life. I crave, create, and thrive on the intensity end of the spectrum.

My life, my heart, and my art beat to a thumping drum of everything that lives beneath the surface. I flourish there. In that gooey, shadowy under-place.

It’s my superpower.

I go there willingly because I know that’s where the truth lives. Its where the fearless, fierce ME lives. Its inside you, too. It’s where the spice of life mingles with who you REALLY are, and galvanizes you into becoming empowered AF.

In my book ‘The In Between’ I write briefly about the crimes against the German (and Eastern European) women, which is a bit of a taboo topic. It’s a tough one, and one that I have been deeply curious about - and disturbed by - for years.

If you follow my work you know that I study, research, and make art about the Germans of WW2. I am massively fascinated with the full range of German experiences leading up to, during, and after the war.

Why? Because they were just like us, then suddenly (or not so) there was a fascist government and all hell broke loose.

I read memoirs written by German soldiers and German Jews. I read about the various elements of the Nazi party. I read about the concentration camp system and its sickening myriad of prisoners. I read whatever I can find about the Germans of that time - and I read about the women.

I’ve spoken with historians about the mass rapes, and I’ve heard varying answers, none of which quenched my curiosity. Perhaps I’ll find some answers in this book.

Why on earth would I read this? One of the reasons is because women always pay a high price for war, but nobody ever talks about it. I applaud the author of this book (before even cracking it open), Miriam Gebhardt, and my thoughts will spend a little time now with the women whose stories fill its pages.

Remembrance is an important factor in ensuring no facet of this horrible war ever happens again.

This morning I swiped through thousands of my own photographs taken on various research trips through Europe. Not sure why, really.

Dresden, in Germany, is a city I visited for a few hours last year, on a day trip from Prague. There is a hush in Dresden that sounds like 25,000 last-gasps for breath. That’s the estimated number of civilians killed by Allied bombing raids in 1945.

Here’s the truth: I’ve been considering stepping away from my years of work with WW2. Walking in another direction to something less heavy, more palatable.

Looking through my largely-untouched photos made me feel a massive rush of emotion I can’t put into words. I bawled like a baby. Memories of personal encounters with geography, history and humanity / inhumanity took me from the outside in. So many stories I have yet to tell ... and even more than that waiting for my discovery.

History has chosen me. There is an intensity where geography and human memory intersect with history, and they sing through me.

Decision made.

Heels dug in. Tenacity on full tilt. In it to win it.

I’m not going anywhere ... anywhere but here: Dresden. Every other bomb and artillery scarred city in this worldwide war. The camps. The beaches. The forests. The Gestapo headquarters. The historian’s offices. The living rooms of veterans and survivors.

S O L D 'Mein Herz / Kein Herz' to this amazing lady. It’s always hard to say goodbye to my paintings because I become so emotionally attached to them through the creation process and the stories that we weave together ... but this piece is going to a brilliant home.

I am opening up several places in my new online workshop DEEPER, which will be GIFTED at no cost to those whose heritage carries the imprint of war.

(DEEPER is *not* based on the theme of war, but is ALL about expressing the stories that hold power in our lives).

Why am I doing this? Because of my passionate approach to the stories of history, I am often contacted by the children or grandchildren of WW2 survivors.

They share with me their deep desire to creatively express the story of their lineage. They want to spend time in the details and take creative possession of that which has haunted, and haunts, their lives.

Because that's what wars do. They haunt lives. For generations.

Yet, the spirit of survival also beats through the descendant's veins - it is this very thing that requires them to step forward and share their family's story.

As you know, I am devoted to expressing the stories of this war, and equally committed to opening these gates of healing to those who feel called to walk their family's story through the therapeutic approach of creativity.

The stories need to be told. Experienced. Released, honored, and witnessed.

We as a community of witnesses need to hold the stories intimately, so that we can learn from them.

Please share with anyone you know who may benefit from this work:-A descendant of a civilian who experienced and witnessed the bombing, brutality, and deprivation all across of Europe at the hands of both the Axis and Allied armies.-A descendant of a US, German, Red Army (or the myriad of other countries involved) combat soldier, officer, sailor, special forces, etc.-A descendant of a member of the Nazi party (who often carry a weight of shame).-A descendant of a prisoner of a concentration or death camp.-A descendant of a member of the Resistance in any occupied European country.-A descendant of a Slavic man or woman forced into slave labor.-Or any other scenario. There were far too many.

PLEASE NOTE ----> *****WW2 is my area of expertise, hence the examples above. Recipients will not be limited to this chapter, but can hold stories of any conflict in history)*****

To qualify for this opportunity, by August 4th please:1. Share this post.2. Send an email to erin@erinfaithallen.com -- ***Please please please do not write to me on Facebook. It is very likely to get lost, and will not count as a submission***.3. Tell me briefly about your ancestor or your story of war with as many direct details as possible, in ten sentences or less.4. Share with me why DEEPER calls to you, and how you will work with this particular story/stories conceptually in our time together.

-Selected recipients will be notified on August 15th. Workshop begins September 9.-You may enter on behalf of another person, and the same process applies.-You do not need creative experience to participate or benefit.

Matt and Inka and I are diggers. We go to Latvia and volunteer to search for and recover soldiers MIA from WW1 and WW2.

Matt sent a photo over to me and I worked my inspiration from it into a mixed media painting for him. In the photo are Inka, Matt, and Matt's brother in law Ken - who I haven't had the pleasure of meeting but as part of the Legenda family he's guaranteed gold.

I also gleaned inspiration from an original image of Wehrmacht soldiers from WW2. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m obsessed with humans and our stories, passionate about finding the common threads we all share.

These men - all six of the above - have taught me in their various ways what it means to be a human being. There’s nothing more insta-inspo than that for me.

Working on this piece for Matt was a sweet experience because Matt and Inka are my buddies forever and ever ... plus the soldiers we recover live in my heart.

Cool side fact: the Wehrmacht buttons I stitch into this piece were given to me by Inka, who sent them to me a year or so ago. He dug them out of the earth with his own hands after seven long decades spent hidden in Norwegian dirt. They are part of my massive collection of wartime relics, photos, and documents.

In December I went on my second expedition with Legenda, a group based in Latvia. This is the story of how I spent my day with some of my favorite people. Be sure to check out my book 'The In Between' - there's a whole fat chapter about this day, these people, and their mission.

A little stack of art journals I began exploding into in 2015, after my first visit to a concentration camp. For decades I’d harbored a secret curiosity (aka obsession) about WW2, but was afraid to approach it. Too much death, trauma, and sadness ... ... ... but ... ... ... here I am in 2018, looking at a 545 page ‘final’ draft of my book (545!!! How the heck did that happen?!?). It’s waiting for my meticulously considered slashes to bring down the page count ... then it’s off to the printers and into your mailbox. These babies you see here are where it all started - and I NEVER imagined I’d publish a book on the topic. I am so freaking full of emotion about this project, and seriously can’t wait to share it with you!

The woman in this photo is named Gerda. I have an album that belonged to her family in my collection. They were Germans, and the album spans the years before, during, and after the war. Sprinkled through shots of Gerda having fun with her sister and getting married and bearing children are other kinds of photos. There are images of bombed out houses, starving animals, and Jews digging holes under the watchful eyes of laughing soldiers. It’s an album that shows us how humanity’s darkest stories creep up and begin to co-exist right alongside a seemingly normal happy life.

Ravensbrück. A quick little 30 second montage. I spent seven days in silence, alone. Songs made by nature, the whir of my bicycle pedals, or my footsteps were the only sounds my ears absorbed. Hours and hours spent exploring the grounds, which were mostly empty. Ravensbrück is a sprawl, with the former jugendlager (youth camp) which eventually became another killing center for the women, and the skeletal remains of Siemens factory where the women slave-labored cushioning its perimeters. Trees, wind, historic structures, ghost-hazes of terrible memories and me.

I've always had an uncanny knack for time travel. I'm not talking about literal time travel, though that would be pretty amazing. I'm talking about this thing I can do, where I zoom in and out of present and past tense and can sense and assimilate all the everythings that existed before.